I need to be loved in actions.

Though my domain is words—letters and verses—these do not feed my body.

My body requires touch—hands and lips and fingertips—and the unspoken poetry of shared movement.

And my heart—my heart speaks no language, save that of gestures and gazes. It doesn’t understand when you say, “I love you,” but it reads the corners of your eyes with perfect fluency.

I need to be loved in actions, and presence too.

Tell me you want me by going to bed when I do sometimes, by massaging my shoulders before I ask and by gathering the scent of my hair by the fistful.

Tell me you need me by wrapping your body around mine so tightly I can hardly breathe. Pull me close to you of a morning when you do not want to say goodbye so early.

Speak your love by standing, sitting and sleeping beside me and smiling more broadly when I enter a room. All the words in the world are meaningless if you are not there—vows of love, empty if you feel no joy at my arrival.

Bake your love into a chocolate cake—or a perfect curry. Tuck your love between the lines of your emails. Plant your love beneath a maple tree and bring me the first leaves that fall beside it.

Spin your love into the finest thread and weave of it a cocoon in which we can nest together.

I need to be loved moment to moment—not in momentous outbursts of proclamation.

If you understand that, then you will have understood all the rest.

I need to be loved every day, in every touch, because love, after all, is not words.

Rather, it is the continual regeneration of itself in the smallest but most significant of acts.

I need to be loved in every action, and if you understand that, then my heart will be no mystery to you.

~ 

Relephant Read:

But, He tells Me He Loves Me, All The Time.

~

Author: Toby Israel

Editor: Ashleigh Hitchcock

Photo: Pixoto